


Reinvent Yourself

by CravingCraze



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Bar, Connor Lives AU, F/F, Flirting, M/M, Meeting, Shapeshifter evan, evan stutters, side Galaxy Gals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravingCraze/pseuds/CravingCraze
Summary: Being a shapeshifter was convenient for a number of reasons.Evan could pretend to be anyone but himself, well, as long as he didn't strain himself too hard (that was never fun). He could completely redesign his body and alter the features he hated so much.Even if he'd grown up in the confides of a government lab, and he didn't exactly get a childhood, he deserved to have a little fun, damn it, and explore the world he barely knew. He was finally free, and could do whatever he wanted.Well, nothing illegal, obviously. He also had to keep an eye out for any government agents looking for him. But that was besides the point.
Relationships: Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy, Connor Murphy & Alana Beck, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 98





	Reinvent Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> It’s FINALLY DONE!!! 
> 
> I’ve had this idea for a long time, and now it’s finally out there! I’m not gonna sa y much, just please read and enjoy.
> 
> (Forewarning, this has not been proofread LMAO)

Being a shapeshifter was convenient for a number of reasons.

Evan could pretend to be anyone but himself, well, as long as he didn't strain himself too hard (that was _never_ fun). He could completely redesign his body and alter the features he hated so much.

Even if he'd grown up in the confides of a government lab, and he didn't exactly _get a childhood_ , he deserved to have a little fun, damn it, and explore the world he barely knew. He was _finally_ free, and could do whatever he wanted.

Well, nothing illegal, obviously. He also had to keep an eye out for any government agents looking for him. But that was besides the point.

After flashing an ID at the bouncer, he stepped inside the bar and immediately was met with quite possibly the most beautiful person there.

They had a long, well built figure, with oak brown hair that poured down to their shoulders. Around their waist was a leather jacket, and they were wearing a black tank top, accompanied with multiple rings on long fingers, and ripped jeans to tie the whole outfit together.

Immediately, Evan turned on his heel and ran out and into an alleyway. He had to _impress_ the beautiful stranger, and well, he couldn't, being his actual, boring self. His boring, actual self, who had sandy blonde hair, green eyes and the right mixed with red, soft skin, a snake tattoo on his upper back, little to no muscle whatsoever, and sort of plump build.

Throwing off a drawstring bag he previously had around his shoulders, he quickly stripped naked so his clothes wouldn't rip. Once this was done, he shut his eyes, and tried to imagine himself changing into a more attractive person.

He imagined curly, brown hair, a large physique, skinny waist, and a sharp jawline. Yeah, that'd do. He could change into the opposite sex, but most times he preferred using a male form, but couldn't do an animal, but everything else was fair game.

Bones began to unhinge and rearrange, as muscles started to expand, as his size grew, hair curled to his will, his vocal cords deepened, as his body made snapping and twisting sounds (it was never pleasant to do, let alone _listen_ to).

When he opened his eyes, he was an entirely different person. On the outside, at least, but he could fake it till he made it, he supposed. It would work for the time being, until he didn't have to pretend anymore.

He doubted that'd be anytime soon, though, but that was beside the point.

Evan pulled out his ID again and looked directly at it. What was special about it was that it scanned all of his new facial features, and printed it onto the photo, adding on other specifics, like his height and stuff.

He strode over to the bouncer with confidence in his step, after putting a different set of clothes on, showed him the new ID, and went inside to find the beautiful stranger.

The Beautiful Stranger was sitting on a stool, on their phone, and a class of water sitting in front of them. They moved a hand downwards, and moved the sleeve of their leather jacket, before grabbing the water and taking a sip.

Evan decided to take the initiative, slowly sitting next to them, sparing a glance at their features.

They were a lot stronger than Evan anticipated. While they didn't have a body builder physic, the discarded jacket left a full view of two defined and broad biceps that this person could use to easily pin Evan against a wall or something because he just wasn't that strong of a guy. Sure, he could make himself strong, but it wore him out faster.

He wanted to speak to Beautiful Stranger, but the bartender already came over, and was asking him what he wanted to drink.

"Just some water, please," Evan didn't put any thought into the order, he just wanted the bartender to leave him alone. He spared a glance at Beautiful Stranger, wanting to initiate a conversation somehow.

Maybe a compliment would do? He wouldn't know, he _never_ flirted with anyone before.

"Your hair looks soft," as he let the words unintentionally tumble out of his mouth, he realized that was a _really fucking weird_ thing to say to someone. It sounded weird, too, and he was probably freaking Beautiful Stranger out, now.

Beautiful Stranger turned their head towards Evan, surprised by the compliment, but they _smiled_ , and it was small and kind and friendly and just really nice.

"Thank you," they nodded their head at Evan, in a friendly type of way.

Evan wasn't good at upholding conversations. He really preferred it when someone else upheld it for him, because coming up with questions and creating small talk just _wasn't his forte_. "Where— where do you get it styled?"

"Oh um, this is all natural, actually," Beautiful Stranger gestured to the wild curls. Evan internally decided he'd keep referring to them as them until he heard a name or other characteristics because he did _not_ want to assume anything. "It's god awful to take care of. It just— does it's own thing— _that's_ how curly it is, it's ridiculous. Back in high school my dad would always tell me to chop it if I complained, but I was as stubborn as a mule, I suppose."

"I can't say the same," Evan chuckled meekly. "My uh— I was never aloud to grow out my hair. They always c-chopped it if I tried growing it out." Back when he was still living in a lab, his primary caretaker, Doctor Sherman, didn't let Evan grow out his hair or change it in any way, shape, or form. Previously before, he didn't know _why_ they wouldn't let him grow it out or dye it, but he knew it was just to keep his appearance consistent on his file. Now that he was free, he was growing out his natural hair to a mullet.

"Oh," Beautiful Stranger looked like they wanted to say more, but chose not to. "I'm sorry," they looked away from him.

And just like that, the conversation died.

Evan resisted the urge to sigh, instead drinking his water, slightly disappointed. He needed a new plan, so he paid and left the bar, going back to the alleyway.

If some friendly banter didn't work, maybe seduction would do the trick? While he didn't know _what_ attracted Beautiful Stranger, he decided he'd settle on a tall, skinny girl, with long, black hair, and would wear a shiny, ruby red dress with flats. It'd be the easiest way to find out what exactly caught Beautiful Stranger's eye (and if Beautiful Stranger seemed uncomfortable, Evan would back off, because he would _never_ want to do something like that to them).

He let his muscles shrink and become more femininely shaped, as fat faded away and gentle curves smoothed their way up his thighs and hips, and his bones shrank and rearranged, as his face become a softer shape (despite having a women's body, he still preferred being as a guy).

Evan once again showed the bouncer his ID as he entered, spotting Beautiful Stranger just where he left them. He strutted over to him, feigning confidence, and willing his hands not to shake.

He gave them a gentle shoulder stroke to catch their attention, and trailed his finger down their arm.

Beautiful Stranger shuddered at the touch, and looked at Evan, seeming to be surprised.

"Hey hot stuff," he purred, silently hoping he was coming off as seductive and not as a predator or anything. "You're looking _very nice_ tonight."

They chuckled somewhat awkwardly, and gave a little smile. "Um.. thanks?"

"You come here often?" Evan leant against the counter, allowing a relaxed pose to take its place.

"Not really? Look, you're attractive, and I mean like, _super_ attractive, you're so beautiful but..." Beautiful Stranger let out a sigh. "I've stopped doing one night stands, and I'm here with my sister, celebrating something kinda important. So if you're looking for a hookup, sorry, but I can't."

Evan was surprised by his honesty, but stood up straight, knowing he wasn't wanted anymore. "Alright, I get it. I'll be on my way."

"Thank you," They seemed relieved. As Evan made his way out, he could feel their eyes on them. They cleared their throat and said, "Is that a snake tattoo?"

Evan turned his head back, seeing some of his tattoo slip out. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, as the dress he wore was a bit revealing, especially in his backside. He just nodded.

"What's it mean?" Beautiful Stranger asked.

Ironically, Evan had _never_ been the one who chosen that tattoo. Doctor Sherman chose where it went and what it was, and that was that. That was four years ago, and he was just twenty two, and while he could _try_ to get it removed, it was a special tattoo that changed along with whatever form he took (the same went with his right red-green eye).

"Er— I guess it's a conception of judging something by it's appearance, but it being completely different," he just made all of that up, because what else was he supposed to say?

Beautiful Stranger hummed thoughtfully, before turning away from him.

Throughout the night, Evan tried using different forms and personalities in an attempt to impress Beautiful Stranger, but none seemed to work. They didn't seem to bat an eye at the different people he made, and whatever conversations they had were short and unimportant. Evan could only assume they just didn't like _him_. It was somehow, still, just him.

Evan entered the bar a final time that evening, wearing a basic blue button up, neat jeans that had little to no holes, and a grey jacket, as he swung his drawstring bag that was filled with his various outfits he'd used that night. Evan was tired, and quite frankly just wanted to drink and to drown his sorrows in them. In the back of his mind, he told himself to stay sober enough to rent a motel to pass out in (he didn't have an _actual_ place to stay).

He sat down a couple of seats away from Beautiful Stranger. He just couldn't bear another rejection or let down. He wanted to be alone, probably for the first time all night, with whatever drink he'd buy.

"What'll it be?" The bartender from earlier approached him.

"I'd like some Rose Wine, p-please," Evan fidgeted with the hem on his jacket. "And put it on my tab?"

As he ordered, he couldn't help but feel a set of eyes on him, which was weird, because he wasn't _remotely interesting_ to be watching. While granted, Evan was a shapeshifter, he tried to live his life as vanilla as possible, because that's what he _missed_ , he never got to live normally, and he probably never will, because the government is still after him, and all he wants to do is meet his _mom_ , who supposedly just 'gave him up', which he doesn't really buy, not at all, and go live in Canada, because he erased all files on him before he left, so they wouldn't be able to get him (or at least, he assumed). The only thing holding him back was the lack of money he had, and he'd need a job for a good solid few months, but he also couldn't stay on the streets, because that was unsanitary, and it was only going to get colder and colder each and every day.

"Bad day?" A familiar voice asked above him, settling into the seat beside his.

Evan didn't even want to raise his head to face them, so he just shrugged feebly. "Shitty night..." he said softly, and fuck, when did his eyes start watering? Doctor Sherman always called him sensitive, and told him he needed to mask and control his emotions. It wasn't like he _could_ control his emotions, no matter how much he wanted to, because feelings were complicated and messy, and he just wanted them gone so he wouldn't have to deal with him.

"You um, wanna talk about it?" The stranger offered, and his curiosity got the better of him, as he raised his head from the counter top, and wow, okay, it was Beautiful Stranger sitting next to him, giving him a look of worry that could be compared to offering someone their condolences when a family/friend died, which was kind of baffling, because they hadn't really cared about him _before_ , well, more like the _different versions of him_ , actually, they'd never formally met like his true, god awful form, and yet he was getting more attention than any of his others did.

For obvious reasons, he couldn't tell him he was trying to talk to him all night, because he'd sound _crazy_ , so he had to make something up. "Er— my b-boyfriend, he didn't like how anxious I was— or well, still am, actually— with like, everything, and I— I tried to _change_ for him, but... nothing worked... so he b-broke it off with me..."

"So wait. You were trying to change yourself for some selfish asshole, while you have _anxiety_?" Beautiful Stranger looked pissed off, but not at him.

Evan nodded feebly, not saying anything. Really, what _could he_ have said?

"You deserve better than him," Beautiful Stranger said firmly, shaking their head. "You're better off."

The bartender set down a cup of Rose Wine, and Evan suddenly remembered his plan. Taking the cup, he downed it and asked, "Why're you here?"

"Celebrating with my sis. I'm four years clean from cutting and two years clean from smoking weed," it was weird, because they seemed more eager to tell him about this than before in his other form.

"That— that's great," he smiled at them, because it _was_ great, and it had to be a big achievement if they felt the need to celebrate it.

"It hasn't been easy, but it's worth it... What about you?" Again, there's hesitation in their voice, but they fight through it. It's kind of admirable.

In a way, Evan's addicted to shapeshifting. He absolutely _loves_ being able to reinvent himself, despite the pain that rushes through his body, and it never fails to get his blood pumping.

But it's another thing he can't tell Beautiful Stranger. So, he says, "Lying. I hate conflict."

"But you aren't lying to me," Beautiful Stranger was smiling at him, and was he _flirting_? Evan couldn't tell.

"Or— or so you think," really, he _was_ lying to them, but only about small stuff.

"If you were lying, you'd get defensive, and well, you aren't," Beautiful Stranger laughed slightly.

Evan sputtered, "I mean— well—I guess."

Beautiful Stranger squinted at him, and then smiled, "Wait, hold on, you have it too?"

"Have— have w-what too?" Evan was confused by what he meant.

"Your eye. It's got a little red in it," they clarified.

Evan's face flushed, and he looked away, covering it. Doctor Sherman could never find out where the red came from, and called it a 'scientific anomaly'. "Oh... sorry. It's weird, I know."

"Wait, no! I didn't mean it like that!" Beautiful Stranger rushed, and— that's their hand? It's so soft. "Just. Look at me?"

Evan sighed internally, but complied, and watched Beautiful Stranger brush their beautiful, long hair out of their face, revealing his left brown eye with a large amount of blue in it. He gasped, gazing at it.

"I wanted to say we both have Heterochromia," they chuckled awkwardly.

"Oh..." Evan said softly, trying hard not to stare at them. He knew from experience how awkward it was to have people staring at him, but he couldn't help it. They were just... so _beautiful_ (hence the nickname), and Evan would stare at them for forever if he could, and _fuck_ , their hand was still on top of his, and their gaze was directed at him and felt all too tingly in a sudden moment.

His thoughts were interrupted by the bartender coming by. "Want a refill?"

Evan nodded to them, and watched as the cup filled once more with the Rose Wine, taking it afterwards, and took another drink.

Beautiful Stranger grimaced, "Please tell me you didn't drive here."

Evan finished half of it before setting the cup down. The alcohol was really starting to set in. "Can't drive if I don't have a car," he shot finger guns at him somewhat awkwardly.

"So you walked," they assumed, "cause I don't think you'll be okay to go out on the streets like this."

"I'll be fine!" Evan laughed, and _oh yeah_ , the alcohol was really hitting now. "I don't—" he hiccuped, probably from not having any water in between drinks. "I don't even know y-your— _name_!"

"It's Connor. Connor Murphy," Beautif— no, _Connor Mur—_ no, _beautiful Connor Murphy_ , smiled at him, and Evan decided it was safe to assume his pronouns were he/him unless told otherwise.

Evan slowly raised his arm so Connor could take his hand, but it probably looked weird, but everything was spinning and he'd rather not fall off of his stool and get a concussion. Never the less, Connor The Beautiful took his hand and shook it.

"I'm... beautiful," he whispered, not really used to calling Connor by his actual name. He was just so _beautiful_ , he couldn't help it.

"While I won't deny that, I still need your name," Connor laughed, letting go of his hand. Evan just let it drop, sort of like it was weightless.

"Oh," Evan drank the rest of his second cup, and asked for a third. He laughed at the fuzziness gathering in his chest and said, "It's Evan."

Oh so beautiful Connor was smiling shyly at him. "Well Evan, maybe I can convince my sister to give you a ride home?"

It dawns on Evan that he kind of can't accept his offer. He'd _love_ to, definitely, without a doubt, but he just have a home. His cup was filled once again, so he took another drink, trying to figure out _how_ to tell Connor he couldn't without hurting his feelings.

"I— don't have one," well, congratulations Evan, for being brutally honest with this super hot stranger that he'd never see again.

Admitting to homelessness probably always sparked concerned, Evan reasoned to himself, as he saw Connor's expression melt into shock. "What? But where have you been _staying_?"

"Shelters, hotels, motels, and sometimes on a bench," he laughed dryly. He was painfully used to this routine by now, but it's not like he could leave.

"God, I'm so sorry for asking," Connor groaned, hiding his face in his hand.

Another drink went down the hatch. " 'm not mad or anyth'ng, you d'dn't know." He was forgetting to articulate his 'i's, he was aware, but did that really matter? No, he was drunk, and he could do whatever he wanted (well, he'd probably get in trouble, but that didn't matter to his drunken mind).

"Fuck, are you going to be okay?" Again, there was that look of worry, while Sober Evan would appreciated, Drunk Evan didn't want to be pitied.

" 'll be fine," he insisted, his cup becoming empty. "Just need a motel."

"Well when you're done, can I take you to one?" Connor took a moment to pause. "And I know it's weird, because we barely know each other, but I _promise_ it's not out of pity, but because you're important."

 _'Important to the government? Yes. Important around here? No_ ,' Evan thought to himself, but didn't actually say it. "Okay."

While Evan had a couple more drinks, Connor made some small talk. He talked about how hellous his high school years were, as he was at the bottom of the food chain, among with the relentless expectations from his parents didn't make life easier. He'd spiraled into depression, and struggled with it for the longest time, but eventually got a support system he could fall back on if needed be. He went into Graphic Design and was interning to design Buildboards with a company. In the spring, he'd graduate and start working there, while his sister majored in Astromony, and her girlfriend, Alana graduated early with to be a Paralegal (that was normal for her, because she _always_ went the extra mile, he explained).

Once done, Connor talked to a blonde haired girl Evan could only assume was Zoe. With every passing moment, he could feel his legs wobble and he had to use the counter to stay upright. Connor noticed this, and coaxed Evan into grabbing onto his shoulder for balance, which was super nice, as he lead him out into his car.

It was embarrassing that he couldn't even get his _seatbelt on_ without help, but all he could do was slump back against against the seat and mope. Connor was typing into his phone, looking for a nearby motel, most likely, and Evan couldn't help but feel just... so lucky. He knew guys like Connor weren't nearly as common as he'd like to believe, and just the fact he was doing this for him... Just was amazing.

Finding a motel didn't take nearly as long as he thought it would, much to Evan's disappointment. Was it wrong he wanted to be around him so much? He barely _knew_ him, and yet there he was, wanting to see him again.

“Can you get inside okay?” Connor turned to him once the car was parked.

Really, Connor was just too sweet for his own good. Was he trying to leave Evan swooning _hopelessly_ after him, cause he hoped not. “Yeah. It’s just a few feet.”

But just when he was about to step out of the car, Connor spoke up, “Can I have your number?”

Evan felt frozen in his spot, out of fear or anticipation, he couldn’t tell.

“It’s just— believe it or not, I’ve had a really nice time talking with you tonight, and I wanted to see you again,” Holy _fuck_ , that smile, it was like finding a diamond in the rough. So beautiful and rare, and aimed just at him.

Evan could feel himself fumbling for his phone, and handed it over, watching Connor take his out so he could take it. He silently typed in his number, seeing Connor smiling as he did the same, and they swapped back. He couldn’t believe it. He’d _gotten Connor’s number_.

And as he stumbled into the cheapest motel room he could find for the night, he felt like he finally did something right for once.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m considering making this a series, so please comment if you’re interested in that! I had so much fun making this.
> 
> Why does Evan have heterchromia? Because I said so, that’s why. In case you missed it, his eye color/tattoo doesn’t change with him shapeshifting.
> 
> If you have any questions feel free to ask! I’m on tumblr, my main being @crazingcraze and @crazingcrazewriting is my writing blog!


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